


well you drive me crazy half the time; the other half I'm only tryna let you know that what I feel is true (I'm only me when I'm with you).

by anxiouspunk



Category: Gilmore Girls
Genre: F/F, Fluff, Humor, I should learn what really constitutes crack and see if this is it or not, I tried to do a shorter fic for once and I..I don’t think I succeeded in that, but it’s all in the past so you don’t actually see them drink it, for once paris is actually the main voice here instead, ft occasional inappropriate jokes, had to rely on our good friend taylor swift’s ‘I’m only me when I’m with you’ for the title, lorelai’s only in here super briefly btw, rory’s the picture bisexual and just makes bad jokes throughout, so if you wanna see some hilarious stupidity come here, still don’t like it so just ignore that, this is just some drunken antics I’ll be honest with y’all, tw alcohol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-04
Updated: 2018-12-04
Packaged: 2019-09-07 00:03:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16843117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anxiouspunk/pseuds/anxiouspunk
Summary: “...You know, that would be very romantic if you weren’t drunk.”Rory snorts, falling into laughter again.“But it’s true!”“Yes, I know that – you’re not going to say anything you don’t mean when you’ve ingested an inhuman amount of alcohol..”“I’m fine..”“Uh-huh – you know someone’s really ‘fine’ when they have to keep repeating it. Doesn’t do anything for your cause."-It's Rory's twenty-first and Paris has somehow found herself in this mess.





	well you drive me crazy half the time; the other half I'm only tryna let you know that what I feel is true (I'm only me when I'm with you).

**Author's Note:**

> Hi again! I actually don't have too much to say here this time; basically, I find way too much joy in writing drunk fics and I couldn't resist doing this. They're just so stupid and fun, so I hope you enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it :)
> 
> (I'll put my usual warning to say I've only finished s1 & 2 so if the show has ever done something with alcohol and twenty-firsts, I wouldn't know it).

To be fair, this hadn’t started out all that well in the beginning.

Paris was already frustrated that her exam got moved and overlapped time with Rory’s birthday dinner. Her girlfriend had played it off like it wasn’t a big deal but of _course_ it was, she had to be there with her to celebrate her birthday with her – turning 21 was a big deal you know, and they’d invited all these friends and everything! Rory argued that Paris was taking her for that fancy dinner, just the two of them where they dressed far too nice and she gets one of the specialty desserts, so what did it matter that she missed the casual get-together, even though it _did_ matter obviously because they were in a relationship and it was _protocol._

In the end, there was nothing  Paris could do about it.  Rory was still going to dinner with those friends, and  she should have some time after her test to swing by. And thankfully, she’d finished early, so that’s exactly what she did. 

Where, she  inevitably fell into this mess of a situation. 

Rory was not a partier. Meaning she was not a drinker either.  Back in high school, both of them were more likely to grow a second head then sneak in six-packs  to parties or barter for a bottle of vodka. Rory was with Lorelai yesterday night because it was fair she be with her mother, her best friend,  on her actual birthday  so she could treat the young girl to her first drink. And Paris was expecting a couple people to maybe treat her to one or two.

_This,_ was the last thing she’d been wanting to deal with. 

She’d dropped late into the dinner to find the table covered in shot glasses and drinks and food, everyone in an uproar of talk and with Rory slung back over her chair and grinning like  mad, clearly so far off her rocker there was a brief worry they might actually have to call someone. She was too excited by Paris’s arrival to notice her shock, jumping over everyone to get to her and planting a wet kiss on her lips (partially missing them), which tasted heavily,  _heavily_ of tequila. Shit.

After wresting out of the kiss they probably _shouldn’t_ have had in front of others, Paris chewed every mutual friend out for who let her get drunk while Rory loudly proclaimed she wasn’t drunk as she poorly hung onto her for balance. She got no help as they refused to fess and just gave excuses like _it’s her birthday!_ to where Paris essentially gave them the middle finger for leaving her with this, threw money down and dragged Rory out. 

This lead them to where they were now. Paris was attempting to lead Rory through the hall to their place, her own arm around her waist and hers gripping to her shoulders. Attempting was really the word here, because her girlfriend might as well be a toddler breaking into it’s first steps with the barely straight line she’s walking, shoulders knocking and  stifled giggles by her ear. 

“ _God..”_ Paris huffed, yanking Rory up for what had to be the hundredth time “Can you keep yourself together for more then a minute Gilmore?! A newborn baby deer could walk better then this!” 

More giggles, pressed against her shoulder “Sorry..”

Her eyes tipped back “You know, that would sound a lot more sincere if you could stop laughing..”

Again, giggling. Paris groaned. Rory must’ve sensed the annoyance rolling off as she tried to straighten herself up, eyeing her. 

“..You’re mad at me.” she stated, though she obviously meant no accusal by how she was grinning. 

“Wow, I wonder where you got _that_ idea..”

“You-You’re not _a-_ allowed to be mad at me.” Rory stumbled, starting to pout “It’s my _birthday..”_

“Your birthday was _yesterday.”_

“Same thing..”

Paris wasn’t even gunna bother arguing, for once in her life. They’d reached the door and she had to prop Rory against the wall so she could let them in, sighing as she continued to flounder. 

“Rory you’re going to have stand straighter then _that.._ ” 

“I can’t, I’m bisexual.” 

Paris let her head fall back, pinching her nose. Rory, however,  started giggling madly, grinning like the cat who caught the canary.

“You’re not funny.” Paris glared, finally getting her to stand up. Rory stuck her tongue out in retaliation. 

“Y-You’re just _jealous_ , because you can’t tell jokes..” 

“Yikes, hitting me where it hurts Gilmore.” Paris fished her keys out, unlocking the door “My joke telling skills; really, if anything, jokes like that show you’re just becoming your mother with every passing day – c’mere..” 

She grabbed Rory by the arm, dragging her inside and quickly closing the door. She had to be quick, because she’d been a bit too aggressive and by pulling her girlfriend in, it’d nearly sent her toppling and she had to dive to catch her by the waist, Rory throwing her arms around her shoulders. 

“ _Jesus Christ_ – Gilmore, god, have you become _completely_ incompetent –”

“You _pushed_ me..” Rory slurred, stabbing a finger into her chest and looking like she was trying to make a glare by squinting but could hardly keep her eyes open anyway.

“I did not –”

“– and I’m _dizzy_ anyway..” 

Paris straightened up from where she’s prying the jean jacket off Rory, setting her in a hard look “I swear to god Rory, if you so much as  dry heave on me I  _will_ kick you out.” 

“..You’re mean.” Rory accuses, forming a mean look back but it came out more frumpled then anything. Paris snorts.

“Is that your first time picking up on that?!”

She rolls her eyes, shaking off her jacket from where it hung on her arms  _“No_ – but now I-I’m wondering  _why_ I put up with it..” 

“ _You put up with_ _it?!_ _–”_

But Rory was gone, throwing down her jacket and stalking off to the kitchen.

“I want snacks – they treat me better!” 

“ _Rory you –”_

No use. Paris bit down on a scream. She hurriedly threw off her own leather jacket, kicking off her shoes. She chased her into the kitchen, where somehow, in the minuscule time, Rory had opened the case of birthday cupcakes and was now chowing down on one. 

“Give me that –”

“ _No,_ go get your own –”

Paris managed to snatch it from her hand, shoving the pastry back into the container. Rory made some protesting, whiny noise. 

“You can have that tomorrow, but I’m shutting _this_ down right now –”

“But –”

“No buts!” Paris cut off, giving another hard glare “Take off your shoes.” 

Rory did her best to glare back, folding her arms “...You know,  _j_ -just because I  _soometimess_ like it doesn’t mean you can tell me what to do..” 

Paris raised an eyebrow, also folding arms “Really? Well  _I’d_ beg to differ.”

In a blink, she’d grabbed Rory by the waist, holding them close together as the other girl grips tight onto her. She leans down for the  semi-fancy, buckled heels Rory’s put on.

“I have to do _everything_ by myself to get things done around here –”

“As if you don’t _loove_ being in charge _alll_ the time –”

“Says the girl who just admitted liking being topp –”

“Sometimes!! _You_ like it too when I do it –”

“Except that you hardly do and – _ow,_ fuck, god, why they hell did you have to wear _these_ shoes for what was the casual dinner Gilmore, I can’t even find the strap!..” 

“It’s in the drawer under the bed.” 

There’s more mad giggling above her head. Paris wished the floor would open up to swallow her whole. Grumbling, she found the buckle and undid the shoe, slipping it off and doing the same to the other. After, she bolted back up. 

“Since when do you find dirty jokes so hil –”

She stopped dead when she noticed the opened plastic package of  dunkaroos in Rory’s hand, cookie between her fingers and head tilted up innocently. 

“What, when-when did you get that?!” 

Rory simply pointed to the open cupboard next to her. Paris immediately started cursing herself for being so focused on this task she allowed her to stand so close to the snacks. Before Rory could become wary, Paris ripped it from her hand. 

“Hey –”

Paris ignored her, walking to throw the snack into the trash “No more of that, we’re putting you to bed Gilmore –”

“I wanna eat more snacks, you keep taking them –”

“Well too bad –”

“Ooh! The funfetti!” 

Without giving Paris any time to react, Rory was rushing out the kitchen. 

“What? – Rory!”

“The oreos, I left them in the bedroom!..” 

“ _Why did you –”_

Gone. Paris did nearly scream, putting her hands into her hair. God, she was going to fucking  hang  those ‘friends’  herself  the very next time she sees them..

A muffled ring threw out of her thoughts. She lifted her head,  realizing the noise must be coming from Rory’s cell, which was left  in  her bag she so kindly abandoned by the door. She goes over, thankfully able to find it quick with Rory’s overt organizational skills that kept every piece in her purse intact, and flips it open.

“Hello?!” 

“ _Oh, hey, Paris!”_

“Lorelai,” Paris sighed, running her hand over her face “Sorry, you were probably expecting Rory, but, um – it-it’s not a great time right now –”

“ _Too busy partying then?”_

Paris was too busy worrying to notice the teasing tone “No! It, it’s just, we –”

“ _It’s cool kid! It’s her twenty-first, I would expect nothing less. I was just calling ‘cause there was some textbook she left_ _yesterday_ _that I wasn’t sure she was in dire need of or not.”_

“Oh, um, well, sure, I’ll mention that to her –”

“Who’s on the phone?!” 

_ Fuck.  _ Paris crouched against the wall, hand cupping over the phone speaker like that was going to do anything. 

“No one, go eat your funfetti!”

“Is it mom?!” Rory whipped around the corner, almost falling over, one hand clutching the wall and the other the bag of specialty oreos “Let me talk to her!” 

“ _Is that...Rory?..”_

Paris had no time to think of what to say to Lorelai, ducking away from her girlfriend. 

“It’s nothing Gilmore!”

One of the worst things about alcohol, is that it made Rory twice as stubborn as she already was. So she wasn’t shaken off so easily, clambering over Paris who desperately tried to push her off,  but only had her hands slapped away and  Rory  very well climbing on top of her to get her phone. 

“It’s _my_ phone, let me have it –”

“Rory, just, _christ,_ stop – it doesn’t concern you –”

“ _What’re you guys do –”_

“It is mom! You’re a liar!” 

“Rory _knock it off –”_

“Gimme – she’s _my_ mother!–”

“Get _off_ of me –”

“I wanna talk – ow, hey!” 

“You started it!” 

“Y-You started it! Let me talk –”

“You can’t, _stop,_ you can’t – _fuck that’s my_ _toe!_ _–”_

In a dirty move, or possibly just an accident, Rory stepped over her baby toe and forced her to buckle. She took advantage of her lowered walls and swiped the phone, even as Paris tried to reclaim it. But it was too late, Paris was down and Rory had the phone to her ear. 

“Hi mom!...What, no, I-I’m good! I feel great!..Yeah, it’s been fun...oh, yeah, just a little – we got a party platter of shots at dinner and I got some of them and then I also got jello shot ‘cause I hadn’t had one before – they’re _so_ good, did you know that?!..Plus th-they gave me some drinks on the house ‘cause it’s my birthday which was, like, really nice of them – oh, and lava cake!..yeah, it was amazing, I should’ve saved you some...no, Paris doesn’t get any because she’s being _mean to me_ and _try_ -trying to take the snacks – oh, also, she says my jokes aren’t funny but you’ll think it’s _really_ funny, listen, so, Paris was trying to get the strap on my shoe and –”

Before this  took a horrible turn, Paris decided if Rory could play dirty then she could too. She used Rory’s unaware drunkness to sneak up behind and lift up on her tippy-toes, quickly grasping the phone and slipping it right from her hand.

“Hey, I was talking!–”

“Too bad –”

“Paris _let me –”_

She started climbing over her again but there was no use fighting; Paris couldn’t do this forever. As a last ditch effort, she snatched the bag of cookies from Rory’s hand. Rory dives for them but by then Paris had chucked them half-way across the room. 

“What the – _stop that!”_ Rory roars, quickly spinning around to where they landed “I was eating those!” 

Grumbling, she was too upset to remember to get to the phone, and stomped  after her snacks. Paris sighed, trying to catch her breath, clutching the phone in her sweaty hand. 

“Lorelai are you still –”

“ _Paris..”_

Paris swallowed nervously. Great,  _great._ So much for keeping it a secret to the woman that her daughter was out-of-her-mind drunk.

“Listen, Lorelai –”

“ _Just how many drinks has she had?”_

“Okay, look,” Paris groaned, just about ready to run out the door “I had this stupid exam to go to so I couldn’t be there and I _trusted_ our idiot friends to celebrate while being careful but when I got there they had given her at least seven shots and I don’t know how many other drinks of which I _did not authorize_ so before you say anything I’ve been trying to get her settled but _jesus christ she won’t sit still for a minute it’s like a toddler –”_

“ _Kid, slow your roll. All I want is that you get her into bed –”_

“Yes, that’s all I’ve been trying to do –”

“ _Great, and then maybe get her water and some advil because that kinda first ever hangover is gunna hurt worse then a concussion –”_

“Yes, obviously, what else would you expect of me Lorelai?!” 

“ _Perfect – and one more thing I really,_ _ **really**_ _need you to do for me, it’s of the upmost importance..”_

“Of course Lorelai, sure, what?..” 

“ _I need you to,_ _ **please,**_ _get this on tape for me.”_

“ _What?!–”_

“ _Please! I need this – this, this is incredible, and a major disappointment I’m not there to see it for the first time! I mean, she got a_ little _tipsy at dinner – but it was one shot and then a single cocktail, it was nothing!”_

Paris could only put her face in her hands. Of all the things, she really shouldn’t have been surprised by this. 

“Lorelai, I don’t think that’s the moral thing to do –”

“ _But this is a milestone, and I’m her mother! I should get to see it!”_

“Lorelai –”

“ _C’mon – there’s money in it for you! I got a fresh twenty here, all yours, I swear, if you just get, like, a minute recording of it just for my own amusement, and then for possible blackmail and future embarrassing wedding videos –”_

“Lorelai I am _not_ going to take your money –” Paris was cut off by a clang from the kitchen and muttering, sighing again “Look, I-I have to go, she’s on the move and I think she got into the nutella –”

“ _Alright, alright – but think about it! Twenty bucks! And, well, have fun with all that kid..”_

“Trust me, I won’t.” She huffed, hearing faint laughter before finally ending the call, snapping the phone shut. So wonderful that everyone finds her situation so amusing. 

She stomped back into the kitchen, spotting Rory immediately. She had, in fact, gotten into the nutella, dunking the yellow oreo right into the chocolate mousse. 

“Rory, _stop,_ what’re you doing?!” 

“I couldn’t find any..any um..you- _you knows..”_ she explained, making a shoveling motion in replacement of ‘spoon’ “and I wanted to try this, it’s gunna be really good I bet..” 

She plopped the entire oreo smothered in nutella in her mouth. Immediately, her face scrunched up, putting a hand over her lips. 

“It’s not..” 

“ _Alright,”_ Paris huffed, leaning over to quickly seal the nutella and shove it aside “we’re done here.” 

She snatched Rory’s wrist, leading her right to the bedroom.

“What’re we doing..?” 

“You’re going to bed, that’s what’s going on.” 

“But I’m not tired..” 

“That’s real unfortunate for you then..” 

Paris yanks open the dresser drawer, sifting through Rory’s pajamas. She grabbed the long-sleeve shirt and plaid pants set since it’s the first one she sees, until Rory demands to have the penguin ones instead. Paris argues those were winter pajamas and what did it matter, but she had no patience to battle Rory’s “because!..” so she muffles her scream and takes those instead. She marches the brunette next into the washroom next, pushing her inside as she stumbles and slamming the door closed on them. 

“Alright.” Paris threw down the pajamas, giving her a pointed look “Strip.” 

Rory furrowed. She glanced down at herself in the dress, pulling at the black material. 

“..But I like this dress.” 

“Well do you wanna sleep in it?!” 

Rory slit her eyes, shifting them back and forth. 

“...Maybe.” She told her, a grin and giggles coming right after. Paris pressed her lips together.

“Remove. It.” 

“ _Fine.”_ Rory rolled her eyes, reaching behind for the zipper “So bossy..” 

“I’m –”

“And I-I thought you liked me _more_ in the dress, but, I..I guess you like me most without anything on..” 

“Gilmore, I’m going to tell you something, and that’s there’s no version _less_ appealing of you then this current drunken one.” 

Rory starts laughing all over again, nose and eyes scrunched up. It could  _ almost  _ be funny to Paris, if she wasn’t unbelievably annoyed and ready to be done doing this. Once she was done laughing, she leaned back up to look at her. 

“But you _did_ like the dress.” She claimed, grinning away “I noticed..” 

Paris didn’t know what to say to that, eyes rolling back. She  _ might’ve  _ mentioned how it was unfair that Rory was wearing  _ that  _ dress and  _ those  _ heels when Paris couldn’t even be there, and what happened following  _ might’ve  _ been why Rory was a couple minutes behind and had to reapply her lipstick. 

“You can hardly ‘notice’ something I outright said Gilmore. And furthermore –”

“Ow!” 

“What???” 

“I caught my finger!..” 

“ _For fuck’s –”_ Paris reached forward, grabbing her by the shoulders to roughly turn her, Rory barely catching onto the shower curtain “and here I hoped you could at least manage to dress yourself..” 

She pulled the zipper all the way down, Rory helping by (clumsily) slipping her arms out the sleeves. Paris yanked the dress down to where it pooled on the floor, her girlfriend stepping out and kicking it away. It should be hung up, but that was a problem for tomorrow.  And it took some wrangling but eventually Paris helped her  get into the pj’s – even if Rory kept trying to slap her hands away, drunkenly determined to do it herself. She was particularly  adamant about the shirt buttons despite her fingers barely able to wrap  around them, Paris having to weasel in. She at least let Rory do the last one to stop her from whining.

“There!” Rory declared, throwing up her arms once it was done “How’s this – better then the dress?”

She grins gleefully, doing a  bizarre kind of shimmy in the fluffy pajamas. It was just so stupid. Paris snorted, a quick smile before she hid it. Rory lit up like a Christmas tree.

“See?!” She beamed, leaning in to poke her in the cheek “I made you laugh!”

Paris swatted her arm away for the millionth time, attempting to get into the bathroom  cabinet.

“Rory –”

“I made you laugh – no take-backs.” She slides her arms over Paris’s shoulders and nestled close, giggling when she rolled her eyes. Rory lingered there, resting against her as Paris put together the nighttime utensils. Soon, she felt Rory lightly parting her hair, tucking it behind her ear and blue eyes melting into the side of her head.

“What?..” 

Rory simply smiled, running her fingers through blonde strands “I like it when you laugh, you look so pretty..” 

Paris couldn’t hold back her smile then either, looking up to her giddy girlfriend  whose  grin  was  pressed against her shoulder.

“..You’re crazy.” She chides, grasping her chin to hold her still “Look at me – okay, your lipstick is pretty much worn off so it’s just your mascara and eyeshadow, and then washing your face –”

Pulling away like she was a toddler refusing her medicine, Rory claims “I’m not as crazy as  _ you..”  _

“Excellent comeback, really.” Paris quips, taking make-up remover and dotting it on the wipes.

“You are!” Rory jumps right up from the sloth that was just resting on Paris, eyes wide and arms thrown up “You are a crazy person and it makes everyone else around you crazy, like me –”

“Listen Gilmore –”

“And you do, you drive me _craazzzy..”_ it was hard to tell if that was an insult or not with the smile on Rory, trying to speak while Paris attempted to wipe away any lingering make-up “You love to yell and complain about everything and blow small stuff up into big stuff. You _ar-_ argue all the time even if there’s _nothing_ to argue about because you’ll magically find stuff like-like you pull it out of your pocket –”

“Rory, I wouldn’t rile up someone who’s trying _not_ to stick their finger in your eye –”

“and you _never stop talking,_ oh my god! You’re talking even when you’re reading or we’re trying to watch t.v or making out or having sex you just _haaave_ to announce everything _all the time –”_

“ _Rory –”_

“and you’re so _angry._ Constantly. I can’t take you anywhere because you’ll try to fight people at trivia games and we-we get kicked out or you’ll fight sales people or even our friends or _me_ and I don’t know _why_ we can’t have a nice time sometimes, and you’re picky and eat _allll_ the good poptarts when you don’t think I’m looking and you can’t understand jokes and you always accuse me of stealing your stuff before you find it and you’re a crazy person.” 

“ _Jesus christ_ Gilmore, tell me how you really feel!” Paris gave a good glare, angrily tossing away the used wipes _“Great,_ glad I wasted all that time helping someone who thinks _that_ poorly of me –”

“And I love you.” 

Paris spun back, thrown but curious. Rory’s grinning sweet, blue eyes swimming in hers and it was hard to miss the adoring gaze pouring into her.

“I love your fire; sometimes..it’s too much and you-you burn up, but, when..when you get it right it burns _so_ bright and _so_ beautiful.” Rory explained, brows drawn and nose scrunched up in attempt to sort out her thoughts, eyes bashfully rising back to hers “It’s incredible. I love your steel nerve, backbone, that I only wish I had _half_ of. I love how smart you are, _far_ beyond anyone else. I..I love when I can quote Austen or Twain or who-whoever you can always finish it. I love that you’re exactly who you are. I love that you don’t apologize for it. I love that you’re _so_ unlike anyone else. I love that you fit with me in this, like, super weird way. I love you and being a crazy person is a piece of it – you know, like a puzzle, if you were a walking and talking puzzle..” 

Paris has never been totally comfortable with sincerity. Maybe it had to do with being someone who never trusts a person to have completely honest actions, expecting a twist of a knife  in her back  later.  Though right now, there was very little she could otherwise usually write off. Rory loves her for everything. She shakes her head, swallowing through a thick throat  and tries to hide  a smile.

“...You know, that would be very romantic if you weren’t drunk.” 

Rory snorts, falling into laughter again.

“But it’s true!” 

“Yes, I know that – you’re not going to say anything you don’t mean when you’ve ingested an inhuman amount of alcohol..” 

“I’m _fine..”_

“ _Uh-huh_ – you know someone’s really ‘fine’ when they have to keep repeating it. Doesn’t do anything for your cause. Well, at least I know your affections are true, and you aren’t seeing me out of..convenience or something..” 

“Why would it be that?..” 

“Well we’re already friends and living together –”

“Nothing about you is convenient.” 

Paris pauses, teeth going into her  cheek . She can feel her fingers curling against her palm. 

“..I’m going to do you a _big_ favour and let that go.” She decides, grasping the washcloth off of where it hung by the towels “..I’m just trying to remember when you became such a big romantic..” 

Rory grins back, eyes rolling to the side. She twines their hands together, clasped tight as she swings their arms and leans back,  tethered to Paris who stood as the anchor. 

“..I’m not – but I could be, if I wanted to..” She claims, swinging to the side “..If you can be a secret romantic, then I can do this.” 

“I am not.” Paris scoffs – that’s the _last_ thing she wanted to be known by. 

“Yes you are! It’s just..different, how you show it..”

“Who says??” 

“Me! And I’m the one you’re closest to, so ha.” 

“Don’t _ha_ me –”

“Plus you are so _emotional_ Paris.” 

“ _I am not –”_

“Shh, still talking! That’s another thing you do, by-by the way. But..it’s like...you know, hate and love are close together – they’re like, the same sides of..of the, you know, same..thing..”

“Coin?..” 

“Yeah! They’re the same. You get mad at and hate _a lot_ of things, maybe _too_ passionate, but..because of it, you love just as hard. I’ve seen it – I _know_ how much you love me because you have _not_ been shy about it..” 

Paris wished she had a way to refute that. Instead, she just wrings the washcloth under warm water, chewing on her tongue. And Rory  _knows_ she’s stuck because of how she’s smiling. 

“..It’s like what Austen says – what I always think about for you..” 

Paris turns her head, silently prompting, watching Rory figure out how to spill her heart. She’s still smiling at her; she lets go of her hand, moving them to slide her fingers back into the blonde hair, palms cupping the sides of her face. It was a far more..chastely intimate  move Rory hardly ever tried to do. But inhibitions lowered meant all walls came down, and Rory was beaming as she feathered her hair, foreheads nearly touching from being so close. 

“‘I have no notion of loving people by halves, it is not my nature.’”

A lick of silence, but Paris ends up grinning up at her, unable to quiet it. She guesses it’s hard not to when you’re so in love with someone  (even if they’re drunk and being a huge inconvenience). She leans in, foreheads connecting. 

“..Don’t try to quote drunken, romantic poetics to me Rory Gilmore.” She whispers through her smile. Rory giggles more, brushing away hair that’d fallen in front of Paris’s face.

“It’s not really _poetics.._ it’s from _Northanger Abbey_ _..”_ Rory scolds Paris for not knowing better, eyes rolling to the side.

“Well _my apologies._ And of course you couldn’t remember the word for _spoon,_ but you remembered _exactly_ what Austen book that’s from.” Paris sighs, shoving the washcloth in her laughing girlfriends hands “Here, hopefully I can trust you to just wash your face off while I go get some things..” 

Rory does as instructed, rubbing off the last of the make-up from her cheeks. Paris rushed off to get a glass from the kitchen. She briefly considered just getting a regular glass one, until deciding the old plastic one in the back was much safer. She filled it with water and came back to find Rory  drying her face on the towel. Paris  pulled  out a bottle of advil from the cabinet, handing the other girl the glass and one pill. 

“Take this.” 

Thankfully, Rory must be past the stage of questioning things, swallowing it down.  After  Paris took out the bottle swishing with green liquid that laid in her basket.

“And since, at this point, I honestly don’t trust you to be competent enough with a toothbrush, take this too.” 

“Why?..” Rory furrowed down at the bottle. 

“Because I don’t want you breathing alcohol on me all night.” 

“But..it’s _your_ bottle..” She observed, tilting it back to peer through the green “I don’t wanna drink from yours..”

“What does that matter?! We do that all the time!” 

“Not with _mouthwash.”_ Rory shakes it, curling up her nose “it’s probably full of germs..and backwash..” 

“ _It is not_ – good jesus..” Paris groaned, dragging her hands down her face; apparently, she _wasn’t_ past the point of resistance “Really Gilmore, of all the things to worry about! This is too risky but you’ll eat part of my dinner, drink out of my cup, and, you know what, I can even have my tongue on your goddamn clit –”

“ _Shhh!”_ Rory slaps a hand over her mouth, eyes blown wide “don’t.. _say that out loud!”_

Paris fumed, ripping away the hand off her lips. 

“ _There’s no one here!!_ Honestly how the hell do you go from flirting with me and making jokes about the sex toys we use, to acting like a scandalized church grandmother when I say you like when I go down on you, in under twenty minutes?!” 

Rory went beet red at that – clearly a sign she was sobering up, at least lightly. 

“Because that’s..different.” She held up the bottle to the light to look through it “I like.. _that,_ but I don’t like this.” 

“Well too bad.” Paris shoved it against her chest “Drink it, because I’m not having you breathe the smell of your mistakes on me all night.” 

Rory forms a glare, which  again, looked more like a pout. Slowly, she started unscrewing the cap.

“...We’re getting a divorce.” 

“We’re not married, in case you forgot.” 

“We-we might as _well be,_ at this point.”

“I’ll have to go get a ring then – and be careful, _don’t you swallow that_ , you hear me?!

Rory rolls her eyes, tilting the bottle back against her open lips. She had it in her mouth for maybe half a second before immediately spitting it out, getting half of it into the sink and the  rest on the counter. 

“ _Are you fucking –”_

“God, that’s _awful.”_ She whined, wiping the rest off her lips via her sleeve “How do you drink this?!” 

Paris pressed her palms into her eyes – why was she doing this again? She breaths in, having to gather the last sliver of her strength;  _they were almost done._ She rips the bottle away from Rory, screws it closed to put aside, shoves  her out of the bathroom, wipes  up  the mess with clumps of  toilet paper  since it would stain the towel whilst grumbling that they were never going to drink again,  threw it all away and came back out. 

Rory was gone again. 

“ _Goddamn_ – Rory?!” 

“I’m ready!”

Paris followed the echo of the voice,  over to the bedroom. To her great surprise, there her girlfriend sat, perched on the bed criss-crossed and waiting. 

“..Oh.” was all she could say “..Well that takes care of one last thing I have to do.” 

“I’m tired..” Rory mumbles, hands wiping over her eyes. Paris rolled hers, walking over to start undoing the bed and pulling away covers.

“What a surprise. Here, lay back..” 

Rory flopped back with a huff. Paris left the blankets loosely half on her waist, leaving it up to her. 

“There, now sleep. You’re going to need it for the kind of morning you’re headed towards, surely..” 

Paris left her to  it, on to face fix the damage this mess caused. Fingers wrap around her pinky and ring finger, stopping her.

“Where are you going?..” Rory peers up sweetly. 

“I have to go clean up the mess _you_ caused.” 

“No, you can’t go..” She pouts, pulling to reign Paris back in. 

“Says who?” 

“I want you to stay with me..” 

“Rory –”

“No, I don’t want you to go..” 

Apparently,  possessiveness came out to play too; she hadn’t sobered up entirely. Rory tightened her grip on her hand, the other fingers reaching up and looping through the belt holes of Paris’s jeans, grounding her. The blonde scolded and groaned, but even a sleepy, drunk Rory turned out hard to fight. 

“Rory, stop – I-I’m not even dressed for bed!” 

“Then get dressed.” Rory argued, laying back to silently say that she’ll clearly wait. 

Paris sighed, but came to quick realization she just had to give in. At least she could amuse Rory by lying down with her for a little while and get up to fix stuff after  she’d fallen asleep.

“..Fine.” She gritted, shoving Rory off so she could walk off to the dresser “..But just so you’ll finally get to sleep and stop wrecking havoc.” 

More laughter. By this many times of rolling her eyes, Paris swears they’re gunna fall out. She strips off her jeans and shirt, tossing them aside, and starts digging for pajamas. As she sifts, she can sense eyes searing into her bare back, going lower and lower –

“Take a picture Gilmore, it lasts longer..” 

She can feel Rory’s blush from here. She glances over her shoulder, spotting Rory pressing her smile against her pillow, cheeks red.  _There she is._

Pleaded pajama bottoms in one hand, she walks back over, grabbing the sweater she was wearing earlier today currently hanging off the bedframe. That’ll do for now. She  takes off her bra and pulls on the sweater,  pulling off underwear to change into the pants. Rory eagerly scoots over, letting Paris slide  into bed. 

She had about .3 seconds to settle in before Rory was on her, flopping ontop and pushing her back  into the mattress. 

“ _Oof_ – good god Gilmore..” 

“Better..” Rory muttered against the sweater, head laying on Paris’s stomach with arms curled around.

Paris exhales heavy –  so much for cleaning later. She slips her arm over Rory’s back, fingers finding their way into dark hair, parting idly. Rory had turned silent, finally  _finally_ looking like she was shutting down and Paris could get some peace.

“...Thanks for taking care of me.” came the sleepy peep. Guess not. 

Paris paused, biting into her lip. She looked down, watching her girlfriend slowly rise up and down with every quiet breath. She suddenly felt overwhelmed by fondness, swallowing tightly again. God, when the hell did she become this sap, it was totally gross. 

“..Well, you know..” she mumbled, brushing away strands from her forehead “..I guess I kind of owe you one, considering..” 

Rory grins at that, both of them thinking to the many.. mistrials Paris has had, and how Rory has always been there to help her back up. And that’s not even excluding it to high school; Paris has a breakdown at least one a week. She props her head up from where she’s resting it, beaming at Paris. 

“I guess that’s why they call it love then..” 

Paris had to smile at that. It’s true that she wouldn’t put herself through that hour of  aggravation for anyone except Rory. She pushes the rest of the dark stray hair behind her ear, palm cupping under her jaw. 

Paris didn’t need to say more then  that;  Rory could read her perfectly. So she rests her head back down on her stomach, eyes closing to finally sleep and bring some  peace . Paris lays her head back and closes her eyes too, in need for some  _much_ wanted rest. The room fell quiet, becoming still as they  fell to sleep.

“..But I’m not kidding – puke on me at all, and you _will_ be sleeping outside.” 

“I’d like to see you try and make me.”

**Author's Note:**

> If that was good for you, let me know! I've got a massive fic planned to come out, which is why I wanted something small in the meantime, so hopefully you'll hear from me soon!
> 
> P.S I just got a new tumblr url and I feel like y'all would at least appreciate it, so I'm @paris-geller-was-straightwashed if you wanna come scream about nothing with me.


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